


Ghost Town

by aesthetic_warning



Series: Through the Ages [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Everyone important is immortal, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Rated teen because we love the word fuck, They married bro, no beta we die like renfri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesthetic_warning/pseuds/aesthetic_warning
Summary: The thing was floating around, a tattered dress trailing behind it almost as if physics and the pull of gravity were second thoughts to it.“A noonwraith,”“Ghost town! Ghost town! Ghost town!” The wraith shrieked again.“Guess we know why the rest of the town left,”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Through the Ages [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749664
Comments: 18
Kudos: 160





	Ghost Town

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone is immortal. No one will die. Even Roach. She's the same horse they've had since the show. This series is Geralt and Jaskier's adventures as they travel the world!

**1876, Nevada**

“Honestly Geralt this is the least romantic place you could have taken me,” Jaskier mumbled as he kicked a dead shrub. Nobody cared, because it wasn’t like there was a lack of shrubs. There were plenty of those around this dry- “it’s a fucking wasteland!” there was nothing around them for miles, just dirt and shitty grass. 

“I didn’t take you here for date night,” he said, looking down at the piece of paper in his hands. “Yennefer said there was a set of ancient witcher armor around this area,” Looking closer, Jaskier realized that the paper Geralt was holding was, in fact, a map, most likely leading to his buried “treasure”

He glanced up at his husband, who wasn’t currently wearing any armor. Jaskier knew he had it somewhere, hopefully. He didn’t want another fiasco with the archeologists, so he prayed that Geralt’s weapons and leather getup was safe in a hidden location, as two giant swords strapped to someone’s back aren’t very inconspicuous. 

“Wonderful, alright, might I ask why you’re searching that out? Just considering the fact that fashion has been outdated for centuries,” he asked, looking back again at the map, hoping to determine how much more they had to walk before they’d get to wherever the fuck it was Geralt thought they were going. Unluckily for Jaskier, the map was of miles of endless flatland, so there were no discernible landmarks on it. 

“This is the worst goddamned map I’ve ever fucking seen,” Geralt grumbled, before crumpling it up in poorly concealed frustration and tossing it as hard as he could away from him. He was a witcher with monstrous strength, so in theory it should have been incredibly impressive of a toss, but it was also a small piece of paper, and they were on completely level ground so the wind was unbearable. All of this means the paper sailed through the air a few feet, before getting caught in a gust of wind and carried in the opposite direction, landing a few feet away from Jaskier. 

“Truly amazing, I’m really quite astounded. What a throw,” 

“I’m going to loudly accuse you of stealing Roach in front of the Sheriff if you don’t shut up,”

“What do you- oh!” sweet merciful salvation. Directly in front of the pair- at least a mile and a half away but there was literally nothing blocking their view- was a village. Hell, Jaskier was tempted to call it a town! 

They sped up their pace to a brisk walk, desperate now to get out of the hot sun and into a hot bar. At least the joint would have some whiskey. Right now, all Jaskier wanted was to get absolutely smashed and then smash his husband. He lifted his hat to wipe the sweat off his forehead, thankful that the brim at least protected his delicate complexion from the burning sun.

“Oh Geralt, what do your witcher eyes see?”

“At least 8 buildings in the main city,”

“FUCK yes!” 

“I also see that if we hurry, we can make it there right before noon to see any duels,” he said, and Jaskier gasped, looking at him with pure adoration in his eyes. 

“I lied earlier. You sure do know how to romance a man,” 

“Should hope I do. Been married to one for four fucking centuries,” Geralt mumbled the last part, but Jaskier by now was an expert at knowing exactly what his husband was saying by even the most unintelligible noises. 

“And whose fault is that, huh? You’re the one who didn’t propose until a century and a half after we got together! Most girls have set a fucking ultimatum by then” At this, Geralt’s lips twitched up into what most would call a sneer, but Jaskier knew was a solid mix of a happy grin, and a _snarl_. 

“Literally any other woman would be dead,”

The two of them continued to walk and banter, Roach walking next to them pointedly not listening. It had gotten old after the first year, let alone the six hundredth. 

After a good hour of traveling, they had come up to the edge of the town. 

It was empty. 

“You know Geralt, whenever anyone says the phrase ‘ghost town’ this is _exactly_ what I always picture. All we need is a strong breeze and a tumbleweed and it’d be fucking perfect,” he shouted, waltzing along into the square like there was nothing wrong with the fact that nobody was outside. Geralt growled. He did not have a good feeling about this place. 

“Jaskier I-“

“Don’t have a good feeling about this place? Yeah I figured. Why? Are your witcher senses tingling?” 

Geralt’s ears flushed red and he rolled his eyes at the teasing, but he took it like an absolute champ, by flipping his husband off and walking towards the closest building. It was the Sheriff’s office. 

He reasoned that inside there might be some record of an attack or plague or something that would explain why there were no kids running around or people milling about and talking. Using this logic, Geralt decided that it was morally right to smash the glass window next to him and reach around to unlock the door. 

He stepped inside, waving away the onslaught of dust from the obviously long unoccupied room. Turning to his right to investigate the jail cells, he was momentarily stunned when he saw a fully intact skeleton hanging shackled to the wall. He walked back outside. 

“Jaskier!” he yelled, before going in to dig around in the desks and crates around the building. He heard the musician’s frantic footsteps approach the cabin right as he found the Sheriff’s journal. 

“What is it? Is it something cool?” wordlessly, Geralt pointed to the skeleton in the cell “Oh sick! Think we can loot him?”

“You wanna play fetch with Roach using this guy’s femur?”

“I was actually talking about his hat! And the badge on the ground that miraculously is still shiny, and very clearly says ‘Sheriff’ on it,” his husband looked around the room for a moment, before he found a silver ring with a few keys on it hanging on the wall. Unlocking the cell door, he stepped through, excitedly picking up the dead man’s hat and trading it for his own, gently placing it on the skull. Sadly, the sheer force of will that was keeping those bones together finally waivered, and the body crumpled. 

Outside, there was a shriek. The pair looked at each other, before rushing out, guns blazing in order to defend themselves from whatever threat could possibly have had the impeccable timing of showing up right as a witcher arrived too. 

The thing was floating around, a tattered dress trailing behind it almost as if physics and the pull of gravity were second thoughts to it. 

“A noonwraith,”

“Ghost town! Ghost town! Ghost town!” The wraith shrieked again. 

“Guess we know why the rest of the town left,”

“Yeah she’s fuckin shit at singing. I wouldn’t be able to stand this every day at noon either,” almost as if it got offended by Jaskeir’s comment, the thing stopped in it’s haunting pacing, before turning to look right at them. 

It charged. 

The two of them, like a well oiled machine (it was so well oiled it was practically drowning in grease. They’ve had hundreds of years to perfect their battle stance) immediately raised their guns and started firing silver bullets at the raging wraith. When it didn’t seem to do anything, Geralt gently shoved Jaskier to indicate that he needed to move, and they both split up. He began to cast Yrden, hoping to trap the wraith to do it some harm, but it didn’t come near him. 

It went straight for Jaskier. 

In his effort (panic) to get away from the wraith, Jaskier tried to rush away, effectively tripping over a tumbleweed that was rolling by. He fell on his ass, which normally would have been hilarious, but currently Geralt was too worried about his husband’s well being to see the comedy in the situation. 

Suddenly, the wraith stopped, looking down at Jaskier, perfectly still. It then floated away, going back to pacing around the town square, shrieking every once in a while. 

“What the fuck?” Jaskier mumbled, reaching for his hat, which had fallen off during his tumble to the ground. Geralt connected the dots. 

“Don’t touch that fucking hat!” Geralt said sternly, reaching a hand out to help Jaskier up, while looking over at the noonwraith, which was still floating around aimlessly around the town. 

The two of them slowly walked back into the Sheriff’s office, making sure not to make any loud noises or sudden movements in order to not attract the wraith back to them. Inside the building, Geralt started flipping through the journal he found earlier, hoping to find some record of the wraith, or maybe why it was attacking in the first place. 

“I just don’t understand why it was that interested in my hat,”

“It’s not your hat, it was the Sheriff’s hat. Maybe she was about to get married to him when something happened-“

“Have we considered that we’re just letting our own personal biases get in the way and the Sheriff was a woman?” At this, Geralt looked over at the bones lying at the bottom of the cell. He walked towards them and knelt down to investigate. 

“Hm. Wide hip bones. And- oh. An engagement ring,” Geralt mumbled, holding the small piece of metal close to his face to get a good look at it. “There-“

He was interrupted by the loudest shrieking yet from outside. Jaskier turned to him, his expression a mix of a little bit of fear, but mostly a look of _‘well? get on with it, we haven't got all day,’._ Geralt sighed, dug through the Sheriff's desk once more, and pulled out a small matchbook. He tossed it to Jaskier. 

“You know what to do. I’m gonna go fight it,” he said, watching as his husband hurried towards the bones and other objects to burn them, before turning and walking outside. 

The noonwraith was still pacing, going back and forth throughout the town square, its tongue hanging out of its mouth like it was too big to fit inside. Geralt rolled his shoulders, grabbed his gun from its holster, and waited. It paced more. 

He didn’t have to wait very long. Jaskier had done this enough times to know exactly how to burn a corpse with only the barest of materials, so as the noonwraith started shrieking and flying right at him, he knew Jaskier had succeeded in setting the bones alight. 

“Come on, fuck me up,” Geralt muttered, knowing the wraith can’t actually hear him, but hoping the negative energy radiating off of him would be enough to rile the specter. He quickly placed Yrden, smirking in relief as his silver bullets finally had an effect on it. He kept shooting until the trap dissipated. He then frowned when the wraith did as well. 

Jaskier ran outside, brushing off his hands as he jogged towards where Geralt was standing. 

“Where’s the wraith corpse?”

“Did you burn everything?” 

“Yes Geralt, this isn’t my first rodeo, I- oh fuck,” turning to see what Jaskier was looking at, his eyes widened. They had forgotten about the hat. 

“Oh fuck,” The wraith appeared next to it, shrieking as it flew right towards the two. 

Jaskier rushed forward, attempting to dodge the noonwraith’s attack while simultaneously pulling out the matches to burn the hat. Geralt kept shooting at it, hoping to get it’s attention and draw it away from his husband. 

“Hey ugly!”

“Wraith’s can’t hear the living, Geralt!”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?”

It charged at Geralt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jaskier fumbling with the matchbox. The noonwraith was a few yards away. 

He turned right as the hat caught on fire. The Wraith sped up towards him. Geralt took his shot. 

The wraith collapsed. 

“Oh thank fuck. That was too much excitement for a Tuesday,” Jaskier groaned, dropping down next to the burnt remains of the Sheriff’s hat and taking a seat. Geralt snorted. 

“Getting slow, old man?”

“Fuck off Geralt, you’re like a century older than me,”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not hundreds of years old too,” Jaskier flipped him off. He sighed, and looked up at the sun. It was barely past 2. 

“Too bad there was no one to pay you for this,” Jaskier muttered, standing up to kick the corpse a bit, admiring Geralt’s marksmanship. 

“We can still loot the bar,” 

Jaskier looked up at him with a dazzling grin on his face. “Get drunk and fuck?”

Geralt laughed as he grabbed Jaskier’s waist, pulling him next to him as they walked towards the saloon. Right before they opened the door, Geralt stopped. 

“Go get Roach,”

“Goddamnit we forgot the horse,”

“She’s fine,” 

“Obviously but now she’s going to hold a grudge against me and I’ve been on her good side for at least 200 years at this point,”

“More like 20,” 

“Fuck you,”

**Author's Note:**

> This series will have all sorts of different eras and historical events and shit so if you have a suggestion for somewhere or when they should go, drop it in the comments


End file.
